


No Demogorgons knocking

by InkyElster (IdeenElster)



Series: And so it goes [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, One-Sided Attraction, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Whump, future-Jonathan/Nancy/Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 18:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17310047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdeenElster/pseuds/InkyElster
Summary: It was almost a relief to have somebody ring his doorbell. Steve hated doing his homework.





	No Demogorgons knocking

**Author's Note:**

> First and hopefully not last Stranger Things fic /o\ I honestly need more fics with Stonathan or the OT3 and hurt!Jonathan

Not for the first time Steve decided that homework wasn't worth the time and hassle put into it, which made it almost a relief to have somebody ring his doorbell even if it was storming outside.

Lightning briefly illuminated the corridor, sending a shiver down Steve's spine despite the lights being on as he moved down the stairs. His parents had gone off on vacation without him, so he had no excuse for not keeping the special bat inside his room or at least somewhere else he could quickly reach it. Not that Demo-Dogs or Demogorgons had a habit of ringing a bell. Steve just hoped that Nancy and Dustin and the others were alright.

Again, the doorbell sounded, followed by a rap against the door.

"Jeez, hold your horses," Steve muttered under his breath. Then, upon seeing who was on the other side, he added, "Fuck, what happened to you?"

Jonathan looked fucking awful and Steve only had time to call out his name before Jonathan's legs folded up under him and Steve suddenly had his arms full of his ex-girlfriend's boyfriend.

Well, Steve hadn’t many things planned for tonight, but having Jonathan Byers collapsed in his arms really hadn’t been among them.

“Hey, Jonathan, are you alright?” As far as questions went it wasn’t the best he could have come up with for sure. In any case, the only answer he got was a mumbled ‘sorry’.

Steve helped Jonathan up a little further, so they were face to face again. Then he carefully propped Jonathan up against the wall so he could close the door again. The last thing they needed was for the neighbors to get the wrong ideas, whatever those were.

Jesus, what was Jonathan doing at his place? Demogorgon aside, they only had hung out a couple of times after the whole thing had gone down and then Nancy and Jonathan had run off to wherever, leaving Steve the impromptu babysitter of four. Alright, they may have spend some more time than that together, but Steve still wasn’t sure what that made them exactly.

And now Jonathan was obviously not feeling well, and he’d come to Steve of all people.

“Jonathan? _Jonathan_ , what happened?” Steve carefully shook him. Jonathan looked pale and dazed enough that a breeze could have probably blown him over. “Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

That finally got a reaction out of Byers, but his grip on Steve’s shirt wasn’t much to write home about in his state.

“N-no,” Jonathan slurred. Steve thought for a moment he was drunk, but he’d never seen Jonathan drink. Then again, he hadn’t seen Jonathan in most everyday situations, but he had seen him light a creature of the shadow realm on fire, so what did he even know about Jonathan Byers at all.

“No? Really? Cause you look awful, man!” Steve said, catching Jonathan around the waist as he swayed. At least he looked marginally more awake, but still dazed and either drunk or drugged.

“D-don’t want to worry my mom,” Jonathan stuttered out.

Right, and they probably couldn’t afford a trip to the ER anyway. Steve really wondered what had happened to get Jonathan to this place, literally and metaphorical speaking. Jonathan trembled slightly in his arms. The silence was really uncomfortable. Steve had never been one for silence if he could fill it with words.

"Right," Steve finally said with a cheer he didn't feel. "Why don't you come in?" What a stupid thing to say while Jonathan swayed in his arms, not swooning like a damsel but looking like death warmed over, and they already stood in his house with the damn door closed.

With seeming effort, Jonathan raised his head. There was a distinctly greenish hue to his already ghostly pale skin. "I think I'm going to be sick," he croaked out.

Now that really was like a dose of cold water. "Oh Jesus, please not on this carpet. My parents are going to kill me!" Steve said and hurriedly guided, or rather dragged, Jonathan to the bathroom. He got them to the toilet just in time, opened the lid as Jonathan folded up and noisily threw up. Steve looked up at the ceiling. Usually he was drunk, too, at that point, and drunks didn't care quite as much about the sounds people made while being sick. He really wished he could fast-forward to the part after, but instead he found himself kneeling beside Jonathan. One of his hands laid against Jonathan's forehead, not so much holding his hair away from his face and more making sure that he wouldn't topple forward into the porcelain bowl. His other stroked what he hoped were soothing circles into Jonathan's back.

Steve tried to focus on something else. Jonathan's skin was clammy under his palm and so was his shirt. It was a little gross. He'd never enjoyed taking care of the sick or inebriated. And now Jonathan was here. Steve had probably been closer than Nancy and besides, they were friends now, Steve was pretty sure. They hung out, all three of them and sometimes even only him and Jonathan. Once you got to know Jonathan a little better, he was a cool guy.

They used to be friends in kindergarten, Steve remembered. Well... that hadn't really ended well for either of them in the long run. And all that just because of an innocent kiss. He really didn't like to think back on that.

Jonathan chose that moment to stop being sick and slumped sideways into Steve. For all the baggy clothes, Jonathan sure was a solid shape underneath and heavy to boot. Steve maybe liked that more than he was willing to admit, especially after the trashing he'd received back in his youth. Enough of these thoughts, Steve decided. Jonathan was shivering in his arms and looked about ready to be sick again.

Steve shuffled him over to the wall and leaned him against it. Jonathan grasped his sleeve weakly when he got up.

"Hush, hey, I'm not leaving, promise," he said gently, "just getting something for you to feel better."

Weakly, Jonathan nodded. It was only a slight tilt of his head, but Steve was going to take it as a nod since he really wasn't going to sit here forever when he could help make Jonathan feel a little better.

First, he flushed the toilet with a grimace. Then he got a rag and wet it before filling a glass with water. He knelt beside Jonathan and, after putting the glass beside them on the floor, gently caught hold of Jonathan’s chin.

“Hey now,” Steve murmured, “it’s going to be alright.”

Heavy-lidded eyes followed him. Jonathan flinched when the rag made contact with his face. Steve really tried to keep his movements calm and gentle, but Jonathan still swayed and then he finally leaned into the touch as Steve wiped the sweat and other stuff from his face.

“Thank you,” Jonathan breathed.

Steve smiled awkwardly back. “It’s no problem at all, buddy.” He picked up the glass and raised it to Jonathan’s lips. “Here, drink this or at least rinse your mouth with it, it’ll feel like heaven.”

Again, Jonathan tilted his head in something that Steve was going to interpret as a nod and sipped a bit of the water. Steve helped him up so he could spit in the sink. Jonathan motioned for the glass again and Steve helped him sip a little again, rinse and repeat… literally. Then he took a few small sips for actual drinking purposes while Steve rubbed circles into his back.

For a while they stood hunched over the sink.

“Do you think you’ll be sick again?” Steve finally dared to ask. This time a shake of the shaggy head was his answer. “Alright, then let’s get you to bed and you can tell me what the hell happened, alright?”

“Okay,” Jonathan rasped, still looking like a breeze could topple him over. It probably wasn’t too late to get him to a hospital.

Steve slung Jonathan’s arm over his shoulder and put his other arm around Jonathan’s waist. For his part, Jonathan at least tried to help him, but it was still like lugging a sack of potatoes up the stairs. Not that Steve actually had any lived experience with that sort of thing. Their kitchen was on the first floor after all. But if he ever had to drag a sack of stones or potatoes up a flight of stairs, he was pretty sure it would feel exactly like this. Although, to be fair, a sack of stones wouldn’t sway quite so much.

“Easy there,” Steve said, pulling Jonathan up against his side again as the wall kept them from toppling down the stairs again. “Almost there.”

“Sorry,” Jonathan gasped, and Steve shook his head.

“It’s alright,” Steve said. “Just don’t die or kill us both, buddy.”

“I’m trying,” Jonathan wheezed and made a valiant effort of glaring at him. It was kind of cute in a lost puppy sort of way. Steve could understand what Nancy saw in Jonathan.

_Wait._

Steve rerouted his thoughts to something else, namely the last few steps up the stairs. He sighed when they made it and he could herd Jonathan to his bedroom.

_Right._

Steve wished Nancy was here. She would know how to handle her boyfriend.

That didn’t help those particular thoughts at all.

Gently, Steve eased Jonathan down to sit on the edge of his bed. The clothes Jonathan was wearing were clammy, Steve noticed again when he pulled his hands away. He tugged at them, making Jonathan sway where he sat. "We should get you out of these or you'll be sick," he said.

"I'm fine," Jonathan said, which... _sure_. He certainly didn't look the part, more like he'd fall over if Steve let go of him. Steve kept his hand on Jonathan's shoulder. What he really wanted right now was to get Jonathan horizontal in an altogether platonic way.

Steve tugged at the fabric again and Jonathan shivered. "You're going to get sick," he repeated, then he amended, "sicker."

Jonathan's head dipped down, hair falling to hide his eyes as he pulled at his shirt. The shivering intensified.

Steve... really hated watching him while he struggled. It was sort of a pathetic sight and finally Steve reached out again. This time, Jonathan flinched back.

"Hey, it's alright," Steve tried to sooth. "I'm not going to touch you inappropriately or try anything."

The look in Jonathan's eyes was that of a cornered animal, but finally he lowered his arms and turned his face away. Steve tried to keep the touches professional, impersonal as he raised Jonathan's shirt over his head. Then he knelt and slipped the socks off his feet. He had to swallow when he reached for Jonathan's pants and Jonathan hunched over, crossing his arms over his chest. This wasn't unlike the first time he and Nancy had had sex, and unbidden, Steve wondered if Jonathan had reacted like this the first time he and Nancy had slept together, if he'd been self-conscious and nervous, hunching in on himself to seem smaller, fade out of sight.

"It's alright, Jonathan. It's just me," Steve said gently.

Jonathan cracked a smile. "That's what I'm afraid off."

"Oh." Steve said, feeling small himself. "Right. Well you’ve got nothing to fear from me. Nancy would rip me a new one if anything happened to you." Steve grinned at him.

The smile he got back was tiny, but Jonathan lowered his arms and Steve could undo his belt. He'd never done that to a guy before, only girls and it felt weird, like he was doing something forbidden despite helping his friend.

"Alright," Steve muttered under his breath, "you got this."

Jonathan watched him from half-lidded eyes and suddenly their faces were a lot closer together when Steve helped him rise up a little so he could shove the pants down over his butt and down his legs. Maybe Steve threw the pants a little harder across the room than he needed to, as if they'd burned him. Then he jumped to his feet while Jonathan dragged a blanket around his shoulders to ease the shivering, which had gotten worse now that he was lacking some more clothes.

"Do you uh want to get out of that underwear, too?" Steve asked awkwardly.

Jonathan shook his head, drawing the fabric tighter around himself.

"Right, I'll get you some clothes," Steve said. Maybe he saw a brief smile graze Jonathan's features before it was hidden by the blanket as Jonathan pulled it higher. Or maybe it had just been Steve's imagination. Wishful thinking. Except he didn't try to make Jonathan smile. Even though he had a cute smile. It had dimples.

_Clothes._

Steve shook his head and rummaged through his dresser for some socks and pajamas. Then he turned back around. Jonathan was still where he'd left him. This time, when Steve knelt in front of Jonathan, it was as if the air had an electric current running through it. The hair on his arms stood on end. His fingers tingled when he raised Jonathan's bare feet to pull the socks onto them. Belatedly Steve realized that Jonathan could have probably done this himself, but it was already too late.

When he looked up, there were Jonathan's eyes, surprised and dark. Steve remembered how it had felt to undress Nancy, one piece of clothes at a time. This felt a little like that, only in reverse. He shuddered and looked back down, focused on Jonathan's feet that weren't dainty at all, bigger than Nancy's. Men's feet. _Jonathan_ 's feet.

He breathed out, grabbed the pajama pants and eased Jonathan's legs into them. Goosebumps rose up on Jonathan's skin and Steve found himself rubbing at the skin to warm him up before he pulled the pajamas up to Jonathan's thighs and then helped him to his feet. Their chests bumped and their noses nearly did, too, as Steve pulled the waistband over the swell of Jonathan's ass and settled it on his waist.

"Good?" Steve asked, voice nearly coming out like a squeak.

Jonathan nodded and cleared his throat. "Yeah, good. Shirt?"

Steve realized his hands were shaking when he unwrapped the blanket from around Jonathan's shoulders and let it fall on the bed. He reached for the shirt to go with the pajamas, warm flannel. Jonathan obediently raised his arms. His goddamn nipples stood at attention and Steve tore his gaze away. He'd always liked seeing Nancy that way even if it drove her a little mad. Steve coughed again and let the fabric slide down over Jonathan's torso, the back of his knuckles brushing against Jonathan's belly.

Then Steve took a step back. Jonathan wasn't shivering as badly anymore. Steve's clothes were too long on him, the seam of the pants hung over his feet, but the shirt was almost a little tight around Jonathan's shoulders. Jonathan was still too goddamn pale though.

"You don't need to hover," Jonathan said lowly as Steve hovered around him when he sat back down on the bed.

"You still look like shit, man," Steve said, awkwardly pulling the sheets back for Jonathan who stared at him with that damn scrutiny of his.

"Is it really alright for me to take your bed?" he asked and Steve gestured.

"I don't need it right now and you, my friend, look like you're going to be sick again any minute now. Get some rest if you're not going to let me get an ambulance."

Jonathan ducked his head and nodded slowly. "Sorry for putting this on you, Steve."

Steve waved him off. "That's what friends are for, right?" he said airily. "What happened anyway?"

Jonathan pulled his legs up on the bed and under the sheets. He looked the least comfortable that Steve had ever seen someone be in his bed, all stiff as a board and ready to jump up at the slightest provocation. Usually Steve had to piss his beloved off to get that kind of reaction.

He waited and rubbed his suddenly sweaty hands on his pants while Jonathan seemed to gather his thoughts or decided to either tell him or not. Steve was about ready to argue that Jonathan should at least throw him some crumbs. He wanted to know.

"It was Billy and his friends," Jonathan said. "They jumped me in an alley and forced some kind of drink down my throat."

Steve's hands balled into fists at his sides.

Jonathan continued, unaware. "I don't know what they wanted to do but a cop drove past and they ran." Jonathan's shoulders rose and fell. "And then I came to your place. It was closest," Jonathan said defensively. Then he hunched in on himself, wrapping his arms around his middle. "I didn't know where else to go." He glanced up at Steve from under his bangs.

Steve's nails dug into his palms hard enough that they should have bled. Forcibly, he unclenched them and ran them through his hair instead.

"That bastard," he hissed. "What the fuck was he thinking! If I get my hands on him, I'll-"

"Steve," Jonathan said softly.

"What?" Steve demanded. Jonathan's expression made him collapse on the bed, feeling Jonathan's legs dig into his back. Steve groaned and dragged his palms over his face. "I'll kill him."

To his surprise, Jonathan let out a chuckle. "Well, get in line," Jonathan said.

"We'll just have to kill him together then," Steve decided. He craned his head to look at Jonathan. "I bet Nancy would help."

Jonathan was smiling, dimples and all. "I bet she would."

Steve sobered and reached out to brush the back of his hand against Jonathan's waist. "Are you going to be okay?" He asked. "You can stay here until you feel better. Sleep a bit and I'll watch over you. If you're feeling worse I'll get an ambulance.

He couldn't read Jonathan's face, but after a while he nodded and lay down. Then Jonathan closed his eyes. Steve sat up again when Jonathan's legs moved under his back as he turned onto his side.

His breath slowed much quicker than Steve would have thought and he found himself leaning forward to make sure Jonathan was really breathing and hadn't suddenly died on him. It was a stupid thought of course, but it made him feel better to check. Then Steve slowly raised his hand and carded it gently though Jonathan's hair.

Jonathan let out a sigh.

Steve snatched his hand away and got to his feet. Homework. Homework was safe. Homework was necessary to get good grades, which he needed to perhaps not be forced to end up working in his father's company.

Homework was better than to think how he still liked his ex-girlfriend and how many inappropriate thoughts he harbored for said ex-girlfriend's boyfriend.

_Right._

Nothing was wrong with him at all.

**Fuck.**


End file.
